by Emma Hornby
Mr Howarth’s face swam into focus. Kenneth had made his way back to the yard, he told her. In a right state, he’d been. But the lads managed to calm him. They had given him a rub down and he was safe in his stable, munching on his oats. So she wasn’t to worry, no harm done. But what had occurred to make the normally mild-mannered beast act so? She’d been lucky, could have tumbled from the cart in her unconscious state. She was all right, wasn’t she? Not injured at all? Aye, a miracle, that. Could she sit, take some tea?
Laura couldn’t make sense of the questions. She saw that she was lying on a blanket on the office floor. She ached and a spot above her temple throbbed. She allowed the coal merchant to help her up, felt a cup at her lips and drank. Snatches of sight and sound tapped at her brain then flitted from reach. She lurched sideways and brought up a stream of bile.
‘Aye, see if he’s at home,’ she heard Mr Howarth say to a person unseen. ‘The lad should have been with Kenneth on t’ round – God knows what’s afoot. That’s right, Ebenezer Court. Tell him to come quick sharp, that she’s mighty unwell.’
‘Yes, boss. I’ll not be long.’
‘Lass?’ The coal merchant was speaking again, this time to Laura. ‘Your husband’s on his way, so you’re not to fret. More tea? There now, that’s it, take another sup …’
Then she was being carried through the streets. The steady step echoed in the evening mist, and coldness bit. She shivered. The arms tightened around her. Her husband. He had come to get her. Her husband was all right.
‘Nathan?’
‘Don’t try to speak. You’ve had a nasty knock to the head.’
‘Lad …’ Dizziness swooped. Her head lolled and she closed her eyes, sending tears of all-consuming relief spilling down her face. ‘I thought you were dead. I thought the Cannock pair had done for thee.’
‘Sshhh,’ was his only response.
Familiar sounds of the court filtered through some time later and her lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. They were home. All would be well again, now. All would be well …
Wailing, full of raw agony, was coming from somewhere nearby. It was Joyce, Laura realised. And Laura laughed. For it didn’t matter, because Nathan was here. He was all right, and all was well with the world.
CHAPTER 17
STABBED IN THE throat. A flick knife, over in seconds. Hadn’t stood a chance.
‘I don’t believe you,’ Laura whispered to the empty room as the words Daniel had uttered earlier pierced their relentless pitchforks into her brain. ‘It’s all a lie, for Nathan’s well. He’ll be home soon.’
She waited. She watched the dawn reborn, followed its track as ribbons of opal light crept through the sky. Then voices downstairs, hushed and weary. She strained for Nathan’s, but it didn’t come. Not yet, but it would. Nodding, she waited patiently.
‘Sorry, but I must nip home. There’s the babby to see to, my husband’s breakfast to prepare …’
‘It’s all right, Mrs Anderson. I’ll sit in with Laura.’
‘Your mam?’
‘She’s sleeping, finally,’ Daniel replied. ‘Bee’s with her.’
A muffled farewell and the front door clicked shut. Then footsteps sounded on the stairs and Daniel entered the room. He came towards her. ‘Laura?’
‘You shouldn’t be here. Nathan will have a blue fit to find us alone together.’
Daniel perched on the bed beside her. ‘Laura …’
‘He’s jealous, you know. He suspects I have feelings for thee. I do. I love youse both. But he mustn’t know, it’s too cruel. You won’t tell him?’
Daniel’s mouth had slackened in disbelief. He shook his head.
‘It won’t stop me being a good wife to him. I vowed to do my duty, and I will. When’s he coming home, lad?’
‘He’s here already.’ The words were scratchy-sounding, full of despair. ‘He’s across the way at mine and Mam’s.’
‘Oh. Oh! D’you see? What did I tell thee!’ Laughing brokenly, she swung her legs from the bed and hurried from the room. Daniel followed at a slower pace. She flew across the cobbled yard and into Joyce’s house – and stopped dead in her tracks.
Stretched out on a door atop the table was her husband. He was covered with a blanket up to his neck. The face above was chalk white and his eyes were closed. She turned her mildly puzzled gaze on to Daniel.
‘The landlord of the public house the lad were found outside … he gave us the lend of the door from his premises. It’s what we used to carry him on to get him home.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I knew. I just knew.’ Daniel’s voice faltered with emotion. He cleared his throat. ‘When Mr Howarth’s employee came to tell us you’d arrived back at the yard alone, the horse in a right state … I knew summat terrible had happened to him. I traced your delivery round on foot, found him within minutes. He were already gone. The stab wound … it were too deep. Nowt could have been done.’
Tears glistened on her lashes. Frowning, she turned back to Nathan, put her head close to his. ‘Lad? It’s me. I need thee to come home. Come home, now, eh? I’ll prepare your favourite meal and, after, we’ll go to bed. We’ll talk and we’ll make love, and we’ll fall asleep in each other’s arms like afore. Please, lad.’
‘Laura. Lass, please, don’t …’
Feeling Daniel’s hands on her shoulders, she spun around and pleaded with him: ‘Wake him for me. Go on, for he’ll not listen!’
‘Lass, lass …’
‘Try, Daniel, please!’
‘He’s gone, lass.’
Dragging an arm across her eyes, she shook her head. Faint weeping reached her from the direction of the fire. Looking across, she saw Bee, tears streaming down her plump cheeks as she watched the scene unfolding. Laura went to her instead.
‘Daniel’ll not listen, Mrs O’Brien. You’ll waken the lad for me, won’t thee? Please?’
‘Oh, poor, sweet Laura …’ The woman buried her face in her apron and sobbed harder. ‘Poor, sweet girl …’
‘Nay. Nay, you must help, you must … Joyce! Joyce, please, I …’ Spotting her mother-in-law hunched in the chair by the hearth, she fell to her knees and clutched at Joyce’s skirt. ‘My husband won’t waken. Tell him, please,’ she pressed, her voice rising in desperation when Joyce stirred from her sleep. ‘He’ll listen to his mam. He’ll listen to thee, he—’
‘Stop it, Laura! Stop it!’ Daniel cried out across the room.
‘But he must waken! He must.’
‘Come here.’ Hauling her to her feet, Daniel shook her hard, sending her teeth rattling. His wet face was creased in anguish. ‘He’s dead, lass. Dead. D’you hear? Look at him. Do it!’ He forced her to turn. ‘See him, properly this time. Nathan’s gone.’
As though someone had swiped away the floor from under her, Laura’s legs buckled and she fell, howling, into Daniel’s arms.
‘He died because of me.’ Clutching a cup, the tea within long since grown stone cold, Laura stared into the fire’s flames. ‘I told him nay. I warned him, begged him, not to go to them, and now he’s dead. He died alone, must have been so frickened, in so much pain. He sent me away, thought he was saving me. He wasn’t. He wasn’t, for how will I live now?’
Daniel let her talk, understanding she needed the release. Sometimes, her speech was disjointed as she struggled in vain to make sense of the tragedy, and all of it was peppered with bursts of uncontrollable sobbing. But he made no attempt to interrupt.
‘Two days we were wed for, and he’s gone. They’ve taken another person I loved. I murdered one of theirs, or so they think, and they’ve murdered double that of mine in retaliation. We were just getting to know each other properly, me and Nathan. I miss him already. Just what am I going to do?’
The grief made her hurt all over, caused her very bones to ache. Her hoarse weeping was the only sound for several minutes. Then: ‘Daniel?’ she whispered with a sense of urgency.
‘Aye?’
‘I want to kill them.’
He glanced towards the chair at the opposite end of the room, where his emotionally exhausted mother was sleeping again, with the help of a dose of laudanum. Bee had gone home to her own family and he’d told the rest of their neighbours not to call on them for the rest of the day, that he’d look after Joyce and Laura. When he turned back to her, his mouth was a hard, thin line. ‘So do I.’
‘This can’t go on. Them two will never stop unless made to. Your mam, the rest of the court … they were right. It’s time I did things their way. Getting vengence by biding your time, using your wits, don’t work. Sometimes, you must fight fire with fire, for as you said yourself, it’s the only language hell dwellers understand.
‘The police would be of no use,’ she continued. ‘This whole city is crawling with all manner of villain and crook – violent altercations, even them resulting in death, are as common here as night follows day. They’ll not have batted an eyelid over this, just another slum skirmish to them. And the Cannock brothers will be long gone by now. Anyroad, they’ll have an alibi, some false story all neatly sewn up. It’s down to me to see they pay.’
‘Us,’ Daniel ground out.
‘They might kill thee, an’ all. I have to say this, can’t have the blood of yet another on my hands, must warn thee what you’re getting yourself into.’ Her tone was measured, purposeful. ‘If you know the facts and are still in agreement … Then on your head be it.’
‘I make my own decisions. I’m accountable for my actions. Whatever occurs, you’ll not be to blame.’
She nodded. ‘They’ll have quick-footed it back to Bolton town to lie low. I know where to find them.’
He took a deep breath. Then he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. ‘Right, then, that’s settled. We leave the morrow. Them bastards won’t know what’s hit them.’
She’d slept longer than she thought she would. The small clock on the bedroom mantel showed the time was just shy of seven – rubbing her eyes, she climbed from the bed.
Daniel had insisted last night that she sleep at his, that she shouldn’t return so soon to her own home alone, and she’d been glad of the offer. She doubted she’d ever be able to face the marital bed ever again, not now. Not without her husband to share it with.
Her gaze swivelled to the far side of the room that, until recently, the brothers had shared. The single bed that was Nathan’s before he’d moved out to live with her was still there. Her feet took her towards it and she sat on the edge. Gathering up fistfuls of the counterpane, she brought it to her face and breathed deeply. It still held his scent; a hard ball formed in her throat. She rose quickly and smoothed out the dark material until the bed was as neatly made as before. Then she dressed and made her way to the kitchen.
Deep and simmering rage was her motivation now, what was keeping her going, feeding her soul with strength. She couldn’t give in to the agony of grief. She had to remain focused until she’d made those accountable for tearing her life to shreds pay. She mustn’t fall apart, not yet.
Last night, on Daniel’s instruction, the men of the court had carried Nathan home, his presence here being torture for his poor mother. Now, as Laura’s eyes went to the table, she was glad of the decision. If she looked upon his face today, she’d crumble, the plans for the Cannock brothers along with her. No, no. That couldn’t happen.
Flitting about the space with light steps so not to disturb Joyce and Daniel sleeping in the fireside chairs, she collected the teapot and cups then went to fill the kettle. Once she’d made a brew, she’d wake Daniel. A quick sup and they would be on their way. There was, of course, Joyce to consider – she couldn’t be left alone the state she was in – but the neighbours would rally round in their absence, Laura was sure. Nodding decisively, she slipped outside.
She was reaching for the pump’s handle when she heard the privy door bang shut. She turned her head and there stood Lizzie, an empty chamber pot in her hand. It was the first time they had seen each other since the terrible loss and neither knew what to say. Then the girl’s bottom lip wobbled, Laura’s followed suit, and each rushed to throw an arm around the other.
‘I’m so sorry, Laura. I’d have come to see thee, only Mam said to leave it a while and …’
‘It’s all right, lass. I weren’t much up to visitors. It’s took me some time to accept … to accept he’s gone.’
‘Eeh, love.’
Gulping down her emotion, Laura drew back. ‘I’d best get in.’
‘Aye. I’ll call and see thee later, shall I?’
She and Daniel had decided to keep their plans concerning Bolton to themselves, figuring the fewer folk who knew what they intended, the least chance of further worrying the distraught Joyce. ‘Aye, mebbe.’
‘Right, well, bye for now, love. You make sure that fiancé of mine looks after thee.’
Laura’s hand stilled on the doorknob. She swivelled around slowly. ‘Your … fiancé?’
The girl’s face had pinkened. She nodded. ‘The night of your wedding, Daniel asked for my hand. I said yes.’
Mumbling something that sounded vaguely like congratulations, Laura made her excuses and escaped indoors. She leaned against the hallway wall, struggling to catch her breath. And yet, she had no right to these feelings! None! Her husband was lying cold just yards away and she … She was foul, wicked. She deserved what she’d had dealt to her, and more. A second widowhood was her punishment for developing feelings for Daniel. It was. She hated herself!
She moved towards the kitchen but didn’t enter. Head pressed against the doorframe, the forgotten kettle swinging loosely in her hand, she watched mother and son for an age.
She’d wreaked so much pain and destruction upon this family since arriving here. She’d already lost Joyce a son – she wouldn’t allow her remaining one to put his safety at risk, too. Daniel had the chance to forge a happy life with Lizzie. She had no business being here any more. Father was gone, as was Nathan. There was no one – nothing – left for her in Manchester.
After forcing herself into the room, Laura paused again. The dark bottle of laudanum atop the windowsill caught her eye – following the plan, which she now must see through alone, she lifted it down.
‘I’m so very sorry, for everything,’ she mouthed to the woman.
A last, lingering look at the slumbering man and Laura slipped from the house.
Once more, she halted. Looking to the dwelling opposite, the home in which she and her husband should have been together, now and for always, she allowed a tear or two to fall. Letting herself in, she headed straight upstairs and, again with the plan in mind, changed into her coal-stained working clothes. Along with what little money she possessed, she slipped the tincture of opium she’d taken from Joyce’s into her jacket pocket.
Emerging into the murky sunlight, she pulled her cap low. Then she was running, from Ebenezer Court, from the memories, regrets and recriminations, from what was no more, whilst her heart withered to ashes.
‘Please, don’t ask me to explain, there ain’t time.’ She’d taken a risk and it had paid off – gripping Bridget’s hand, she sent up to God a silent thank-you that the Irishwoman had answered her knock and not Ambrose. ‘I need thee to do summat for me.’
‘Sure, of course I will, colleen, but …’ Bridget’s face was wreathed in concern. ‘I must know. Are ye in some mode of trouble? For if so, perhaps your uncle should be told—’
‘Nay.’ Bridget wasn’t yet aware of Nathan’s death, that much was plain, and this suited Laura. She hadn’t the strength to go into that; not here, not now. ‘I’m fine, honest. Inform him of nowt. Please just trust me.’
After some deliberation she relented with a sigh. ‘All right. Although I have to say, I don’t like this; something feels wrong … What is it ye want me to do?’
‘Deliver a message to Mr Howarth at his coal yard. Tell him …’ She swallowed hard. This definitely hadn’t been part of the plan. However, circumstances were
now drastically altered. This was, she was certain, for the best. ‘Tell him that Kenneth and the cart are his. I haven’t the use for them no more.’
‘But why, colleen?’
‘I’m going away.’
‘Going? Going where?’
‘I … can’t say.’ Nor did she reveal that she had no intention of returning. There was nothing for her here any more. ‘Please,’ she continued before Bridget could fire more questions her way, ‘will tha do that for me?’
‘Aye, but—’
‘Thank you, Bridget, truly. Oh. And should Daniel come here looking for me … Tell him I no longer need his help. Tell him to go home.’
‘Colleen, wait. Just what on earth—?’
But Laura didn’t hear, had already turned tail and was running down the street.
CHAPTER 18
NOTHING HAD CHANGED, and yet everything had. Gazing around Bolton’s town centre square, Laura breathed deeply.
Every minute of the train journey here had been mental torture – continually, she’d agonised whether she was doing the right thing. However, Amos and Nathan’s smiling faces would appear each time she wavered, reminding her that she was, that this whole despicable mess must be resolved once and for all, and another layer of hatred towards the Cannock pair would pile in her grief-scarred mind.
She knew where they would be: Breightmet, a small rural township some two miles north-east. Made up of sloping hills, farms and woodland dotted with relatively few homesteads, it was a pleasant spot. Other than the odd coal pit and sandstone quarry, and the handful of small-scale weaving and cotton-spinning, calico-printing and bleaching establishments, it was as yet largely untouched by industry. She’d enjoyed dwelling there during her marriage.
Neither brother was wed – nor for that matter had they shown signs of even thinking about settling down – the last time she’d been in contact with them. Chances were they would be exactly where they had always been: in the decrepit cottage they shared with their mother.
